


Rememberings

by SecondSilk



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tara's death and her time at the Coven Willow and Giles are given the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts. But Willow hasn't fully recovered from her treatment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rememberings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinni](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jinni).



> Written for Jinni of Twisting the Hellmouth.

She was supposed to like it here, Willow knew that. But she couldn't get over the feeling that she was going to break something, or the entire castle. Giles was no help, he was overjoyed to be back 'home' and trusted Willow or Dumbledore or Minerva or something else, to keep Willow in check.

Dumbledore was a sweet old man, but he was busy organising surveillance for Harry Potter, light of the world. Willow didn't mind the boy, and he probably had it in him to save the world. There was no way she was going to distract the Headmaster from those duties because she wasn't feeling right.

Minerva probably had the most knowledge about the spells that had been used on her. But she was not a woman one approached lightly. Willow could sense depths behind the strict and conservative façade, she didn't think the older woman would appreciate a desperate young witch stirring up the past.

The Coven was not contactable. They didn't like the wizarding world. They had drilled the doctrine into Willow, and that probably had a lot to do with her current lack of comfort. Magic is a gift, given you by the Goddess, and it is to be used sparingly, with the proper procedures and understanding of the world. Here they used it to make life easy.

The women had purged the darkness from her magic as well as they were able. She could still access the dark powers, but it was a choice now, not what happened naturally. The process, of course, had had a lot to do with why she had taken that road in the first place. They had purged the pain and shock of Tara's death. Willow knew that there had been a great gaping hole of loss, ready to swallow her, when she had held Tara's body. But she could only remember that she had held her, dead. She also had trouble remembering how Tara had felt when she was alive.

'Loss at the loss of loss,' she thought, and snorted. She knew she had loved Tara with all her heart. But she couldn't remember what that had felt like. She couldn't remember what anything felt like. 'Uncontrolled emotions' had become 'uncontrollable emotions' had become 'muted emotions.'

The kids would be returning in a few days. She tried to imagine them filling the corridor she was standing it, waiting for Charms to begin. It seemed to too empty and solemn, too castle-like to hold more than the five recluses who were currently there living in it. Still, it obviously worked when it was happening. And they would be wearing black robes and those cute back hats.

Someone to fight, that's what she needed. Giles was careful of her, Dumbledore was polite, Minerva seemed to want to see what she could do under her own devices. She'd only met Severus once, and he had hated her. Minerva had explained that he wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job that she and Giles were sharing. He also probably thought she was a danger to the students, Willow thought. Dumbledore and Giles had explained a little of his past; as much as was evil, turned spy, pretends to still be evil.

Willow looked around a moment, trying to remember the way to the dungeons. She set off in search of a fight. She remembered that fighting with someone who hated you, or at least really did want to hurt you, gave you an adrenaline boost. And she'd always been much better with words than a stake. Buffy was the one for the stake.

The Slayer had written a very long letter when Willow had let her know she was staying in England to help Giles teach. It was full of 'that's great, Will' and 'we miss you' and 'you will come back home for the holidays.' She still wasn't sure she could do that, at least not without Giles. Giles would draw some of the attention away from her. He still felt guilty about leaving her and Buffy. Willow didn't remember what she had felt.

Dawn's broken arm, and events – minutes, days, months – leading up to it, were clear in her mind. Without the emotional blocks she could remember every nuance of every thought she had had. And she knew how it had happened. It was a gift to prevent it happening again. But nothing triggered an emotional response.

Miss Hartness had explained the theory of emotional control her. It was something she had always been aware of. It was the basis of magic, or at least the magic she had. Apparently, although she was aware enough of her emotions, she didn't know herself well enough to know what she was really feeling, if she had, she wouldn't have been able to do what she did on that night with Amy.

They would return, she was told, when she knew what they were. She should feel sick about what had happened to Dawn.

Severus ignored the knock on his door. He resolutely turned the page of the book. If it were Albus, he would have been called to the Headmaster's office. Minerva just opened the door, and he didn't want to see either Rupert or the girl. Especially the girl.

He merely scowled when she pushed the door open. He was not in the mood to see her. He was never in the mood to see bright young red headed women with green eyes. Severus looked up when she refused to break the silence herself. Probably nerves, he thought before looking away again. He wasn't in the mood to see, much less talk to, pretty redheads with green eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked, pretending to read the page in front of him. It wasn't a power game, but he had to let her know that he didn't care; about her, what she'd done, or what she could do.

"Did you feel guilty?" she asked.

He looked at her involuntarily. He could not dismiss her so easily again. She had managed to ask the one question even Dumbledore couldn't after fifteen years.

She was still watching him. There was something strange in her look. Yearning, almost, but without knowing it. He remembered what the Wiccans had done to her and gave a mental snort. Like depriving anyone of their human capabilities really gave them a chance to be human, he thought. But despite everything he had been told about her, she was pretty, red haired, green eyed, and anxious for his response. This wasn't good.

"When?" he asked sharply, to avoid answering.

"When you left them, the evil group. Did you feel guilty that you had betrayed them?"

Willow held her breath. She knew that the response meant that she was nervous, and she had no idea how he might react to such a personal question. But it was like she was on beta-blockers; she couldn't care about it.

He seemed to be looking at her differently now. Less like he wanted her out of his sight and more like she was someone he hadn't seen before.

Severus was seeing her properly for the first time. This wasn't the nervous young woman who was trying to prove her maturity. This wasn't a first year student who had blotted their essay. This wasn't Lily Evans asking him what 'Mudblood' meant.

"No one has ever asked me that."

"Does that mean you don't have an answer?"

She watched, silent, as he turned his head and looked at the shelf of books beside his desk.

The second shelf held his old school books, including _Transfiguration: book one_. The third page was very carefully annotated with a description of the way the spell was supposed to feel, and a stylised diagram of how it worked. She had known what he had needed help with, before he had known that she was a Mudblood, and before she had known that Slytherins never talked to Gryffindors.

But Lily was dead. The woman he refused to look at now was Muggle-born as well as Wiccan, and she was stupid the way Gryffindors were. But he didn't have to remind himself that she had the power to destroy world, and hadn't.

"No."

"No to not having an answer, or no to be guilty?" she asked.

She sat down in one of his chairs and Severus suppressed his response. He wasn't sure if it was a sigh or a smile, but either could be fatal. Either he would miss getting to know her better, or … attractive women don't spend time with evil men, he told himself. Maybe a formally evil woman would want to spend time with him, once she got over the guilt, and grief and began to entertain the thought of his presence.

He had known that she would be bad for him the first time he had seen her in Dumbledore's office. He had not reacted well to learning she had half the Defence job, and she hadn't cared.

"I did not feeling guilty about leaving," he said.

Willow raised an eyebrow at him to continue. He knew that she would break him eventually.

"I realised what the Dark Lord was, and I realised what he his plan was."

Willow felt a trill of triumph for getting him open up, and appreciation of the strength required to take that kind of risk. With it came the feeling of triumph she had felt when she had caught Warren and had him strung up.

She blanched. Severus didn't notice, he wasn't looking at her again.

"So, what do you feel guilty for?" she asked him.

She hoped that there wasn't a change in her voice. But she remembered the triumph and felt sick. No memory of what she had thought even made sense in terms of what she had done.

Severus heard the hesitation when she said 'so.' He didn't want to look at her, because this was not a good conversation. But a voice told him he should be worried, for her sake. That voice had not told him anything in a long time.

"I felt guilty for why I left him," he said slowly.

While she tried to unpick the meaning from his words he stood up slowly and came around the desk with the excuse of collecting a small vial from the shelf opposite. As he came back he sat on the chair beside her. He placed it on the desk, out of the way of the current discussion.

Willow felt guilty for what she had done. Or, rather, knew that she should. She did feel sick now for what she had done to Warren. But she didn't really understand what Severus was saying. She had no problem with why she had done what she had. Even the Coven had granted that if you were out to destroy the world, doing so to end the suffering and pain life caused, and reaching that point through desperate grief, was probably the only acceptable reason.

She just shook her head and looked at him.

Again he was struck by the thought that she needed his help. Lily had asked his help just once, in potions. He had heard her talking to Marlene. "We'll ask Severus, he'll know whether it's wormwood or Murtlap."

She'd called him Severus because no one else did. And she'd done up until fifth year, when he'd called her a Mudblood. Now there was this new girl here, who had the same look. She knew that he could help her. He had no idea what her problem was. The only thing he could do was talk about his own, because he had to do something for her.

"It should have been a noble gesture," he said. "It should have been me standing up the worst wizard the world had known because I knew that what he was doing was wrong. I should have joined the side of the right because they were right and fought the good fight. But I did it for the power it gave me, and to save the life of another man's wife."

He had never thought that he would be poetic about it. He rarely allowed himself to think about it. The last time had been almost five years ago, when he had first seen Lily Evans's eyes in James Potter's face. It wasn't the fact that the boy looked so like his father. It was that he didn't look exactly like his father. Even Dumbledore didn't know that.

Willow was so still and quiet, he thought she was measuring the words. But when she looked at him again he knew that she had somehow put two and two together and come up with a magic number. He didn't think he deserved the sympathy she was willing to bestow on him.

With the sorrow on his behalf, came the memory of the disgust she had felt with herself when she had finally sent Amy away. There was also, under that, a sense of loss, of having given something away

And over it all the horror at what she had done to Tara; the gut wrenching guilt.

She gagged. She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop from vomiting or crying. Already she could feel the tears coming. In that moment she had lost Tara, and had never deserved to have her back, even for the time they had had.

Severus leant forward and took her hands. She gripped his tightly and stared at nothing.

"Willow," he said, hoping her name would anchor her. "Willow."

Willow continued to stare at the memories that were coming back. She could feel Severus's hands, and it help slightly in reminding her that what she felt was what she had felt, or should have felt. It wasn't what was happening now. Tara was already gone.

And Severus was here. The passion and concern in his eyes was mirrored in his posture and expression. She wondered what she had done to warrant such a response from him. He was supposed to hate everybody, and think that she should be thrown out of the castle. She'd come here to fight him.

"Another man's wife," she repeated. "But…"

"I failed," he said. "I bent all my strength and will on one thing I shouldn't have done, and I failed."

Not as badly as Sirius, he thought. If that man had the courage Gryffindors were supposed to have he would never have given up the chance to be the hero. He would never, should never, have given Lily's safety over to anyone else. Sirius had been one of the biggest bullies Hogwarts had, but he had been smart, and strong, and stupidly brave. He should have kept his friends safe. But he was dead now, and Severus was still alive, listening to a distraught young woman. Sirius would have been able to make her laugh.

"So did I," Willow said slowly. "I wanted to destroy the world, but Xander stopped me. I couldn't kill him."

"Just as well," Severus said, trying to inject some lightness into a conversation that had become an uncomfortable trip down memory lane.

Willow chuckled sourly for half a moment. She grimaced again as her memories pulled her back into the joy she had felt at the destruction she had caused, and at beating Buffy.

Severus would never know what had possessed him to do it, but would argue with himself that it was the only thing he could have done. He loosed her hands, and gently stroked her cheek with one thumb.

Willow closed her eyes. Focussing on the rough of his callused hand against her skin she could hold the memories at bay. It was the smallest gesture, but it was the first time anyone had touched her since she'd broken down in Xander's arms. Her mind automatically took her backwards from Xander and the cliff. Concentrating on the human connection to Severus, Willow forced her mind away. Relief flooded her as she felt what it was like when the Dark Magic drained away and she was still there, on a world that was still there.

Severus watched, hardly breathing, as Willow struggled with what was happening to her. She clenched her teeth and grasped his wrist tightly. He cupped her cheek with that hand, and the other reached forward and rested on her thigh in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Willow leant forward and their knees touched.

The slow, comforting warmth that spread through Willow's body brought with it its own memories. Oz telling her he missed her. Tara reminding her that they had always had magic.

It was disconcerting to remember the joy of Tara's return, to remember the overwhelming delight to see her standing their in borrowed clothes; but not feel the rush of fear or rage when she knew what had happened to her one love.

Willow pulled back sharply. Severus hardly reacted. He lowered his hand. Willow pushed her chair back to get further away from him. She didn't deserve to feel comforted, or welcomed, or, Goddess help her, desired. She knew that. And she felt angry at what the Coven had done to her.

It was a bright, sharp feeling, absolutely clear. It seemed out of place in Snape's dark and musty dungeon. He was watching her again. His passion seemed out of place too, given the cold this far underground. Or out of time, Willow thought, with the part of her that was amused and detached. She recognised the beginnings of desperation and wondered what would happen this time.

She looked back at Severus. Maybe if he would fight her she would have something to concentrate on apart from old memories of things that would never be again. But the evil, dark and snarky man looked worried.

He wasn't worried for himself; his life should have been forfeit many years ago. And he wasn't worried for the room or the potions; the castle was strong enough, and there was nothing here that wasn't re-brew-able.

But he was worried for her. She seemed so slight and innocent. And so haunted by what had happened. This was something knew for Severus. No woman he had known, not even Bellatrix, had done so much and felt the guilt of it. Bella probably felt nothing more for her cousin's death than disappointment that it had been relatively painless.

Willow felt sorry for the man she had killed and sorry that she had done to him whatever it was she had done. Not even her pain offered mitigating circumstances for the magic she had used. Severus knew magic whose sole purpose was to kill or torture. Willow did not. Nothing she did now was not what she had done to him.

Mrs Snape had always taught her son that there was a difference between witches and wizards, a fundamental difference; in the way magic was used, and felt, and the way life was lived. It was harder for a woman to kill, because she was responsible for birth. For men killing was the closest they ever got to the meaning of life.

Willow could feel it now. The emotional roller coaster of what had been her left for the last year was making her feel sick. She felt loss of Tara leaving, and a deep rage at knowing it was her own fault – that she had done the wrong thing. But remembering the time with Amy and the trips to Rack without the euphoria of the magic use she knew that the hole had never been filled, the most she got was a few palm fronds covering the opening, waiting for her to fall.

Breathing was becoming difficult. She reached out hand to find something to hold her up and found Severus's arm. Gripping tightly she leant on him and felt his muscles tense to take her weight.

Slowly the feeling began to return to her body. She could feel Severus's breathing. Risking more than she knew she leant against him properly. She could hear his heart beat through the cool linen of his robes.

Severus carefully wrapped his arms around the woman clinging to him. He knew that was what he was supposed to do. But he had never thought that he would find it so natural. She was warm and he could feel her power, tightly bound under the surface of her skin.

Tears leaked from Willow's eyes. She closed them tight. As the memories of she had felt returned, it was as if someone had turned the colour back on on the television. Last to return were the memories of slow building wonder and delight. Maybe it was a reward for understanding what her life had been. She could remember the nervous thrill when she appeared outside Tara's door, not really knowing why; the knowledge that _this_ was what she wanted when Tara had kissed her, oh so gently; the confidence in herself when she had bought the extra flamy candle. It wasn't darkness filling her now; she was being pulled into something so warm and soft, like the flickering light illuminating Tara's face.

'Not real,' she reminded herself. The darkness, and cold, and warmth, and strength in this room was what was real. Severus's arms around her felt better she would have given him credit for. 'Come back,' she thought. 'It's good here.' He liked her. He knew what could happen to people and accepted that it had happened to her. Why did she feel that she shouldn't be here?

Severus could feel her slipping away. He hugged her tighter, holding her closer. In the strange play of thoughts that went through his head he recognised that fear that she wanted to leave, desire to keep holding her, and curiosity at what the others might say. He decided that he did care, and she was well able to put him in his place. He didn't want to loose her.

His mother had been an extremely shrewd woman; a Slytherin to her core. She had drilled, and sometimes beaten, many rules into him. The one that surfaced now was that magic was never quite real, that nothing was as real as what was actually happening or had actually happened. He knew of only one way to bring her back – he didn't even have to think about it. Looking back, he thought that was probably just as well.

Gently pulling away, he raised Willow's chin to look at her properly. She didn't really look like Lily, at all. The sight of her stirred something in him he didn't want to think about. But she was looking at things that weren't there. With more confidence than he felt, Severus leant in and kissed her, firmly.

Willow was pulled out of the downwards spiral by the unexpected warmth of Severus's lips. It was real, and new, and sending tingles down her spine.

Willow responded with surprising fervour; a strange mixture of trepidation and desire. She took half a step closer to him. Slowly, her hands inched around his waist and up to his shoulders.

Severus found he couldn't move away. And, more interestingly, didn't want to. The closest he had ever been to another human being before was either beating them, or being beaten. The sex had never been as intimate as the torture.

Willow was slowly massaging his shoulder blades, making the way up to his neck. Severus groaned. Forcing himself to be slow, he pulled away gently and kissed her cheeks. He could taste salt from her tears.

Severus's cheeks were rough. His hair was oily, and slightly matted. He smelt spicy. Willow wanted to get closer.

Severus kissed Willow's lips again, part of him was amazed that she hadn't pushed him away. Most of him had given up on rational thought. He knew that she needed him, and that at the moment that was enough. He knew that she could keep him sane. And teach him how to deal with what needed to be done. He felt he might be able to laugh with her.

Willows hands were shaking as she pulled at Severus's top button. He gathered her closer. Willow knew that he wanted her. She knew that he knew what she had done. She knew that he would stop her from falling, and could keep her from drowning. With him he could live properly again.

She undid another button. This felt so different to anything that had happened over the last year. She could remember what laugher felt like.


End file.
